


Midnight Memories

by If I Could Fly_ (ifIcouldfly_hs)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Destiny, Fate, First Kiss, Fleetwood Mac, Fluff, M/M, Named after a 1D song, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Online Dating, Soulmates, Tinder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:34:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifIcouldfly_hs/pseuds/If%20I%20Could%20Fly_
Summary: Louis Tomlinson moved to London a week ago and is desperate to not spend New Year's Eve all alone at some dive bar. So, he swipes left a bunch until he lands on a boy with emerald eyes and chocolate curls.Harry Styles is yet again, the fifth wheel among his friends. They force him to download some stupid dating app, even though online dating is completely the opposite of how he wants to find "the one".ORThe one where Harry and Louis match on Tinder and realize they're soulmates.





	Midnight Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little bit of NYE fluff <3

Louis was the epitome of pathetic – the Webster’s definition of pathetic, really. He was sat at a bar, his third pint of the evening in front of him and his phone in his hands. It was New Year’s Eve and the pub was packed full of groups of people who were patiently chugging back alcoholic beverages as they waited for the clock to strike midnight and the new year to begin. It was packed with couples who were ready to have their lame and cheesy midnight kiss. It was packed with people who _had_ somebody, and Louis was alone, sitting on a barstool, mindlessly swiping left and right on fucking Tinder. He’d only moved to London a week ago after accepting a job offer at Relentless Records. He didn’t know anyone, and spending New Year’s Eve alone wasn’t exactly the most thrilling of times. So, here Louis was, trying to find a last-minute date on some stupid dating app he’d always sworn he’d never use. Here he was, hoping to find some guy to kiss when the ball dropped and the kazoos sounded. He knew his chances were slim. He knew there was little hope that he’d find someone even remotely suitable to spend the rest of the night with, but he’d keep trying. He _had_ to keep trying.

He had just swiped left on some blonde, built, bro-looking type douchebag when the face of a straight up god filled his screen. He stared down at the mass of shoulder-length brown curls with emerald eyes, feeling hopeful for the first time since he’d made an account the day he’d arrived in London. Louis scanned through the rest of the guy’s photos, which mostly comprised of him hanging out with friends and strumming a guitar. He couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter when he got to the last picture, where said god himself was standing in front of a brick wall, acting as though he was having some sort of intriguing conversation with it. Louis had the urge to swipe right based on looks alone, but that had proven to be a misstep in the past, so he scrolled to the profile and began scanning through the typed words.

 _Harry, 22  
_ _Scrabble, Fleetwood Mac, and dad jokes._

Louis laughed again, not taking another second to overthink before he swiped right. They matched immediately, and Louis wasted no time in hitting the “send message” button. He tried to think of something witty, something clever that would catch this Harry guy’s attention. He was absolutely, positively sure that someone as beautiful as Harry probably received a million messages a day, and Louis didn’t want to be just another guy. He wanted Harry to message him back. He wanted to show Harry everything he had to offer. Okay, maybe Louis was a little over zealous, maybe just a bit too desperate, but time was of the essence. It was 9:30 on New Year’s Eve and he’d be damned if he was still sitting alone at a pub at 11:59.

 **To: Harry**  
**Thunder only happens when it's raining**  
**Players only love you when they're playing**

Louis chuckled to himself as he hit send, quite proud of himself for his clever Fleetwood Mac quote. He needed his opening line to work. He needed this guy to message him back and be completely smitten. He would quite possibly die if he never got to see this beautiful human being in real life. His phone vibrated just as he was taking another swig of his beer, telling him that Harry (oh, so fucking beautiful Harry) had messaged him back.

 **From: Harry  
** **Are you trying to charm me with your Fleetwood Mac knowledge, or is this your way of telling me you’re a player?**

Now this, this was something Louis could do. Louis was an A+ student when it came to banter. He practically lived and breathed banter.

 **To: Harry  
** **Honey, the only thing I know how to play is the piano**

This time, Louis didn’t even bother setting his phone down – he didn’t even bother exiting the app. He just sat there, beer and phone in hand and waited. He counted to 30 before a new message popped up on his screen, the smile on his face growing even wider.

 **From: Harry  
** **So... you’re good with your fingers then?**

Louis almost spit out his mouthful of beer as his eyes scanned the message. He set his beer down, his attention now fully stolen by his phone and the boy he was attempting to charm.

 **To: Harry  
** **Wouldn’t you like to know ;) But I do play a mean rendition of Chopsticks. I could woo you with my fingering while you make me a cup of tea in the morning**

 **From: Harry  
** **You seem pretty sure of yourself, Louis. Haven’t even gotten to know me yet and you already want to demonstrate your fingering skills?**

Louis was full on grinning now. He hadn’t properly flirted with another human being for months, not since his last not so serious fling. He could do this.

 **To: Harry  
** **Now, now young Harold. I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression here. I was clearly referring to my amazing piano skills. Such a dirty mind for such a pretty face.**

 **From: Harry  
** **My face would be even prettier with you all over it...**

 **To: Harry  
** **Well, that was more of a daddy joke than a dad joke**

 **From: Harry  
** **What are your plans for NYE?**

Louis contemplated lying. He contemplated making up some lie about going to a party, or anything that would make him sound less pathetic then he really was. But he couldn’t do that, not if he had any hope of actually meeting Harry. So, he swallowed his pride and started typing a response.

 **To: Harry  
** **Currently sat at some pub, drinking away the night**

 **From: Harry  
** **Want some company? I’m at a dive bar with some mates...you could join if you want?**

Mates? Louis didn’t want to meet Harry and friends, he just wanted to meet Harry. He just wanted to meet a head of chocolate curls and jade eyes. He just wanted to meet his midnight kiss. He just wanted to meet his potential soulmate.

Okay, so Louis had a tendency of daydreaming. He had a tendency of living in some fairy tale land where dreams really do come true. But if he did believe in soulmates, his would definitely be the very vision of “Harry from Tinder”.

 **To: Harry  
** **Hmm, are these mates of yours going to be an obstacle when I try to sneak in a midnight kiss?**

 **From: Harry  
** **Lol...they’ll be too busy kissing each other. I’m kind of like the fifth wheel right now. Please come? I promise it’ll be fun.**

Louis was still trying to think of a response, still trying to decide if he really even wanted to go meet a bunch of strangers, when his phone buzzed again.

 **From: Harry  
** **Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like...demanding or anything. You don’t even know me, I’m probably coming across as some sort of creep or something. It would just be really nice to not be all alone at midnight...**

 **To: Harry  
** **Love, there’s nothing to be sorry for. You aren’t coming across as creepy at all. Text me the address to the pub you’re at and I’ll make my way there**

Louis downed the rest of his pint and signaled to the bartended for his bill as he waited for Harry’s response. He was eager, of course he was eager. He had just spent the last ten minutes talking to the very image of a wet dream, and he couldn’t wait to be in the actual presence of the real deal. He could picture the way Harry would act in real life, could picture the way his voice would mirror his overuse of ellipses, could imagine the way he probably flushed when he said anything remotely risqué. God, Louis couldn’t wait to hear what Harry’s voice sounded like. He couldn’t wait to see the curls in person, to examine the dimple that was so beautifully pronounced in his profile pictures. Louis had just finished paying the bill when his phone buzzed again, and he scrambled to unlock it to read the message as he was slipping on his jacket. He froze in his tracks as he read over the address Harry had sent him.

Well, well, well, things just got interesting.

 **To: Harry  
** **You’re telling me, you’ve been sitting in the same pub as me for god knows how long and I somehow failed to notice? How is it even humanly possible not to notice a god sitting amongst a bunch of measly peasants?**

Of course they were at the very same dive bar. Of course they’d been sitting in the same room, swiping through Tinder at the exact same moment. Louis had always had this thing about fate, had always thought about how interesting it would be if there was someone out there doing the exact same thing as him, how interesting it would be if there was someone out there he was _supposed_ to meet. And fate had basically just fallen right into his lap (okay, it had fallen right into his Tinder application, but same thing). Maybe Louis wouldn’t hate London after all. Maybe Louis didn’t even hate Tinder after all.

 **From: Harry  
** **You’re at The Hamlet??**

Louis was still standing by the bar, jacket half on and phone in hand. He was searching the packed pub, looking for a head of curls and an aura of perfection. He was still scanning the tight space, cursing under his breath that he hadn’t been born with x-ray vision, when he heard a voice from behind him. This was it – _fate._

“Louis?”

Louis spun on his heel, his lips pulling up into a shit-eating grin as he came face to face with fate himself. And oh god, he was even prettier in person. Harry’s curls fell to his shoulders, bouncy and crying out for Louis to touch them. His shoulders were broad, and yet he was slim and tall, his arms displaying countless little tattoos that Louis prayed he’d have time to examine later. Louis let his eyes trail down to Harry’s hips, which were insanely pinch-able and wonderful, and then back up again to his face, where a pair of perfectly pink lips were turned up into a smile. And oh fuck, those eyes. Louis was done. He was sure he was dead and had gone to fucking heaven or something. Maybe he was finally being rewarded for all of his past good deeds, because no one deserved to be this close to something so beautiful.

“Harry?”

Louis didn’t even have time to process the movement before Harry was throwing himself at Louis and wrapping his arms around Louis’ frame. He hadn’t really noticed the height difference before, but now he was acutely aware of the fact that Harry was practically a giant compared. “I can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time!”

Louis laughed as Harry pulled away, taking his turn to scan Louis from head to toe. “My Nan was right,” Louis joked. “Our generation is so consumed by technology that we miss out on the beautiful things right in front of us.”

Harry giggled as he stepped closer to Louis, basically consuming all of his personal space. “Hmm, apparently so. What are you drinking?”

“Shouldn’t we be getting back to your friends?”

Harry shrugged as he perched himself up on a bar stool, patting the one next to him to encourage Louis to join him. “They won’t miss us for a couple minutes.”

 

*

A couple minutes had faded into two hours. Louis and Harry were still sitting in the exact same bar stools, but somewhere over the past two hours they’d managed to shuffle them as close together as possible so that their knees kept bumping against one another and their elbows would touch every time they moved. It was bliss, really. Louis had never experienced something so strong, so palpable – it was as if there was electricity running through them every time they touched. It was fucking magic. And Harry’s laugh? Harry’s laugh was the best sound Louis had ever heard in his entire lifetime. He’d been making Harry laugh nonstop since they’d sat down, and Louis would be damned if he didn’t get to spend the rest of eternity making the beautiful noise escape the even more beautiful mouth.

“So, why are you at some dirty hole in the wall all alone on New Year’s Eve?” they’d spent the last two hours talking about everything else except why Louis was all alone.

Louis shrugged. “Just moved to London last week, so I don’t really know anyone here,” he offered up one of his irresistible smiles. “Looks like my luck’s changed though, yeah?”

Harry smiled at his question, his dimple making an appearance yet again. That dimple was now Louis’ favourite piece of art he’d ever seen. “Looks like it.”

“So, Harry Styles, who likes scrabble, Fleetwood Mac and dad jokes, why the fuck are you even on Tinder?” Louis couldn’t keep the question in any longer. He was dying to know how someone like Harry didn’t have a million people pining after him, how he didn’t have a million people begging like dogs at his feet. It just didn’t make any sense.  

Harry chuckled as he took a sip from the gin and tonic he’d been working on for the past while. It didn’t faze Louis that he’d managed to down two pints while Harry continued to baby this one particular drink. Louis liked his beer, and there was nothing wrong with that thank you very much. “I thought it was pretty obvious,” Harry started. “I’m just looking for a good time...you know...cock and all that.”

Louis’ smile fell immediately. That was the very last thing he’d wanted to hear. He’d thought that maybe all he wanted was fun, he’d thought that he needed a couple more years of random hookups and meaningless flings, but then fate had landed in his lap. From the very moment he’d laid eyes on Harry, Louis had known that fun wasn’t what he wanted, not anymore. Harry wasn’t the kind of guy you just had fun with, Harry was the kind of guy he could spend forever with.

_Simmer down, Louis._

“I’m joking, Lou,” Louis’ eyes snapped back at Harry, his head spinning from both the nickname that had slipped from Harry’s lips and the way Harry’s hand had landed on Louis’ arm. “Honestly, my mates were teasing me for being single, and they downloaded it on my phone tonight. I’ve never been the online dater type, didn’t really see the point of it really. I always thought I’d meet my soulmate at like...the shops or something.”

Louis didn’t miss the blush that had crept up on Harry’s skin, or the way the fingers that were grasping at Louis’ forearm were sweaty to the touch. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d almost think Harry was nervous. “You believe in soulmates, do you?”

He wasn’t teasing him, but apparently Harry had taken it that way, because he’d retreated his physical contact and was now staring down at his drink in front of him. “Well, yeah...” he mumbled quietly. “I think there’s someone out there for everyone. Don’t you?”

Louis found the pink pout on Harry’s face to be the most adorable thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. There was something about the way that Harry seemed to wear his emotions right on his face that made Louis’ heart skip a beat every so often. He’d never met someone so sincere, so fucking genuine, and if he had a say in the matter he’d never let go. “I didn’t, no,” Louis’ smile grew as he watched Harry turn back towards him, his bottom lip protruding even more as he pouted at Louis’ words. Louis couldn’t help it, so he reached out and poked at the moist flesh. “I didn’t believe in all of that shit, not until about two and a half hours ago anyways.”

“What made you change your mind?” Harry asked quietly, oh so slowly.

Louis’ fingers were on Harry’s bottom lip again, this time his thumb taking its turn at padding at the skin. He watched as Harry’s eyes followed his every movement. They were hooded with expectation, maybe even desire, but Louis couldn’t give in just yet – now was _not_ the time. “I matched with this dork on Tinder. I’m hoping I won him over with my ‘70s rock knowledge and irresistible humour.”

Harry hummed in response, his eyes transfixed on Louis’. “Hmm, well...how could someone resist you and your fingering skills?”

Louis threw his head back in laughter, his thumb never leaving Harry’s lips. “So, I won him over then?”

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve secured your midnight kiss.”

Louis wanted to dive in just then, but he needed this to be perfect. Everything about this night had been perfect so far, and he couldn’t go about ruining it by jumping the gun. He needed to start 2018 off right, and that meant that when the clock struck exactly midnight, his lips _had_ to be on Harry’s. It was a matter of life or death.

So they sat there, turned towards each other on their bar stools, green eyes crashing up against ocean waves as Louis’ thumb continued to press into Harrys’ perfect lips. They sat there for what felt like eternity, just staring at each other, goofy grins on both of their faces. Louis had never believed in destiny before – he’d never believed in fate or soulmates or any of the other cheesy shit that happened in Nicholas Sparks’ books. But here he was, sat in a dingy pub on New Year’s Eve, and he was absolutely fucking sure that he was staring into the eyes of his future. He was absolutely fucking sure that Harry Styles was his forever, his soulmate, his ying to his yang...and all of that fucking bullshit. Because, well...it wasn’t really bullshit after all, was it?

It could have been a century later for all Louis was concerned, but all of a sudden the rest of the people in the pub (the people he’d all of forgotten were even there) began to countdown. This was it – he was ten seconds away from sealing his destiny. He wasn’t even nervous; he wasn’t even concerned about his first kiss with Harry needing to be perfect, because it _would_ be perfect. It was so painfully obvious that everything that happened between them was fucking magic.

“10...9...8...7...6”

Louis jumped down from his barstool and moved so that he was standing between Harry’s open legs. He finally moved his thumb from Harry’s lips, reattaching himself so that he was cupping Harry’s face in both hands. His skin burned as Harry’s hands fell to Louis’ waist, fingers digging into hipbones.

“5...4...3”

Louis’ lips were hovering over Harry’s impatiently waiting for the countdown to be over and done with, for the crowd to cheer and the champagne bottles to burst open. He’d never thought, not in a million years, that a night that started with Tinder swiping and desperation would lead to forever. He never dreamt in a million years to find someone who he felt so connected to so quickly. But Harry Styles was everything but ordinary, and Louis Tomlinson was fucking done for.

“2...1”

“Don’t look back, baby,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips before crashing down upon them. He wasn’t even faintly aware of the confetti that was pouring down on them or the champagne that was currently being sprayed all over him. He was only aware of the boy whose lips were moving against his and whose fingers were digging in to all of the right places. He was only focused on the curls that were twirled around his fingers and the way Harry’s tongue begged for entrance into Louis’ mouth. Louis could die a happy man, that much he knew. He could die and know that he’d met his soulmate. He was done looking, he had nothing left to search for. He’d go down as being one out of a million people who met the love of their lives on fucking Tinder.

They finally pulled apart, both of their chests heaving due to lack of oxygen. Harry’s mouth was still against his, a smile on his lips. “Ready to take me back to yours and show me how good those fingers of yours work?”


End file.
